One Dosa

Let me tell you the story of “one dosa”.

My friend’s mother-in-law was hospitalised and I was paying the usual courtesy visit. And looking at Chitra’s face I realised I had to do more.

“Shall I do the morning shift tomorrow?”, I offered.

Even though she initially refused, she later agreed. 

Morning shift in the hospital entails relieving the night staff (appointed from a nursing agency); bringing in breakfast for the patient and staying till noon.

I left home by 7 am armed with Upuma, chutney and coffee (in a flask).

The night person was ready and literally ran out the door as soon as she saw me.

Aunty seemed in an upbeat mood.

While placing the food on the counter, I asked if she had slept well?

“Yes. I think the sedative they add to the drip helps. But I do get up by 4 am…. Old habit….”

And she looked naughtily at me and said, “And with the racket the lady makes.. it is hard to fall back to sleep…”

She smiled and whispered, “She snores…. worse than uncle did!”

And gave a hearty laugh!!

I looked at the woman sitting in front of me. She was short and heavy. Her thick legs dangled from the bed. Her eyes were keen. The night dress clung too tightly to her. Maybe she was bloating?

A nurse popped in and asked sweetly, “Aunty, breakfast done?”

And when I replied no, she said she had taken the patient’s blood once and another round had to be done 45 minutes after meal. (Fasting and pp.)

Aunty was diabetic and had been hospitalised as she had developed some infection. 

Once the nurse left, I offered her the upuma, I had brought along.

“I love upuma “, she declared and I loved to see her devouring it. But she ate only half the quantity. And when I insisted she said she can’t eat much. Her stomach had shrunk.

“At home, we always have dosa. Arun likes only dosa. No idly, no upuma or pongal. Only dosa. I feel sad to see Chitra make so many - for Arun, the kids, the maids and herself… So I make my own dosa. …Only one dosa. I eat only one dosa.” She had raised one finger to emphasise.

A quick thought passed by me…

Why would Chitra allow her to make that one dosa? If she can make so many, then why not that one more? 

Soon the nurse came, then the visitors time started and it was noon.

Chitra looked rested when she arrived with the lunch hamper.

Some days later, my husband was traveling and Chitra asked me to come over to her house… a sleepover!!

The next morning, she made crispy thin dosa for breakfast. She took a ladle of batter and spread it in a beautiful circular motion evenly over the hot stone. Then she topped it with sesame oil. When it turned golden brown underneath, she flipped it. The thin crepe like crunchy dosa was served steaming hot to Arun and their kids.

Next she made some for the maids and started making dosa for herself and me.

That was when I remembered her mother-in-laws statement.

I had to ask.“You make dosa for everyone…Why don’t you make that one dosa which your mother-in-law eats? She said to me that she makes her own dosa. She must be saying it to everyone. It is just one dosa.” I was quite angry.

She looked bemused.

“How many dosa will you eat?”, she asked without replying to my question.

I replied three (first) and then changed it to four. Two of these thin handkerchief like dosa is not going to fill my tummy.

Looking at my (angry) enquiring face, she smiled and said, be patient in sign language.

After she finished making dosa for everyone, she reduced the flame of the stove and called out loud, “Amma, please come. I have finished.”

Aunty came into the kitchen , while Chitra and I started moving the plates to the dining area. I thought I would give company to aunty till she makes her one dosa and came back into the kitchen.  

But aunty was not making her dosa. She was just fidgeting. The dosa kallu was hot, what was she waiting for?

Chitra came back into the kitchen with a suppressed smile, pushed me out and closed the door.

“Why don’t you make that one dosa for her?” I whispered harshly. ”And why are you closing the door? It is bloody hot inside the kitchen.”

She released her face and it contoured into a huge grin.

“After 5 minutes, you go inside to get the tea which I have left near the sink. You will understand everything then.”

After 5 minutes, when I opened the kitchen door to get our tea, my eyes first landed on the dosa kallu and then aunty’s face. I saw a mixture of anger and indignation.

I had seen the thickest dosa sizzling away. Made with around 6 ladles of batter.

Just one dosa.